by M. J. Haag
During this time, we entertained several more suitors, which both of my sisters rejected out of hand. Father nodded each time, accepting their answer; but I read the concern etched in his expression. Then one day, with solemn acceptance, he said we should begin packing our belongings to leave the next morning. None of us questioned him, but we all wondered how we would live in the tiny two-room house.
* * * *
In the morning, Father walked to the smith to borrow the wagon he’d used last time. Into it, we packed the rest of the books, Father’s bed and my sisters’ bed, our trunks, cookware, and the last of our food. The desk, table, and remaining bed stayed with the house to entice the next schoolmaster. While we worked, a crow cawed at us incessantly.
When we had everything loaded, Bryn and Blye climbed onto the bench seat with Father while I sat on the backend of the wagon. The crow quieted as Father clucked the team forward, and I wondered what he would tell the beast.
We pulled onto the main road of town, and I noticed the butcher outside his door and gave a wave of farewell. The baker watched from the shadows of his porch, but I pretended not to notice. Sara stood near the quiet anvil at the smithy, looking down at the ground. I wondered what would become of her husband’s dealings with the baker, knowing the blunt silver had already run out for her.
Clearing the village, the wagon jostled ponderously north until the road curved near the estate. There the woods remained eerily dark and quiet until it too passed from sight. Riding in a wagon, even if it was a butt-bruising ride, ensured a more pleasant second trip to Water-On-The-Bridge.
Arriving well before lunch, Father took a circumspect route to our new home, avoiding the main thoroughfare with its questionable businesses. We worked together to unload our belongings, cramming them into the main room of the very small house. Then Father drove the wagon back to the smith. While he was gone, Blye packed her precious dress and walked to the dressmaker, who agreed to hire her but could not offer her lodging.
Bryn and I put together Father’s bed in the main room and set up their bed in the single, private room. With effort, we also managed to wedge in the three trunks. When we finished, I eyed our house with dismay.
The kitchen came equipped with a stove and dry sink like our prior cottage. Near the stove sat a table for two with two chairs. Not three feet from that, Father’s bed sat against the back wall between the door to the backyard and the door to our room. A fireplace, cleverly set on an interior wall, worked to heat the main room and the room beyond. Before the fire, a worn stuffed chair would welcome a weary scholar. To the right of the fireplace, just before a window set into the front of the house, sat a desk and several shelves that already brimmed with Father’s books. To the right of that was the front door, bringing my slow turning tour to an end.
In all honesty, this house was meant for a single man or a married couple. Father had no room for any of us.
Excusing myself, I went for a walk to check the market district. Better to learn costs and who would be willing to trade right away. By dusk, I’d determined the only thing we’d changed was the size of our house. But, at least, I didn’t have to worry about the baker or the smith’s sons.
Sighing, I returned to our new home empty-handed. Father already pored over his books, and a very watery version of stew waited for me.
* * * *
We celebrated Father’s first week of pay by purchasing meat and flour. After not eating anything the prior day, all of us looked forward to the meat pie Bryn fixed. As I bit into my portion of the meat pie and gravy dripped down my chin, I thought nothing could have tasted better. However, too soon those supplies ran out, and we were back to going hungry. I noticed Father’s neckcloth seemed a bit longer and the shirt that Blye had just tailored for him a little looser. My own dress gaped a bit from my waist now.
What really bothered me was Blye’s success at the dress shop. She would come home talking excitedly about her customers, but never about her pay. After two weeks of living in the Water, she came home with a new dress, saying she needed to look the part to work at such an upscale shop. She gave her old dress to Bryn, who accepted it with a smile of thanks and a comment that a second dress would be handy.
That day, I put on my bag and left the village to forage. The nearby country had been picked fairly clean, so I headed in the direction I knew. Not far after passing over the bridge, I stopped until a curious wave of dizziness passed.
I trudged east, watching for signs of the estate. As soon as I saw the mist creeping around the bases of trees, I sighed with relief and turned north into the mists. The skirt of my dress still wasn’t ideal for setting traps, but it was the only thing I owned that I could wear in the Water. Father’s old shirt would give too many people lewd ideas.
Too soon, I reached the wall and turned to follow it east—ignoring the gate that swung open in invitation. Finally, I reached the patch of ground that usually held some sort of bounty. The sight of withered brown tops of potato plants greeted me. Using my hands, I clawed at the ground until my bag brimmed with the brown globes. When I stood, the weight made me cringe. Carrying ten extra pounds from here to Konrall wouldn’t have been a problem, but to the Water? It would be a trying journey. Still, I hoped for something in my traps as well.
Retracing my steps, I approached the gate and nearly screamed when I was pulled from behind into the maw of darkness. Two strong hands gripped my upper arms and held me against a very large, furry frame.
I didn’t turn to look. I knew who had me, but I still remained unsure of his mood.
“Will you assent and stay, Benella?” he said softly.
Eight
“I cannot—”
“Then why have you returned?” he roared, hurting my ears and thrusting me away with enough force that I stumbled and lost a few precious potatoes.
“Because I’m hungry!” Angry, I picked one up, spun, and threw it into the dark. The muffled thud of the potato finding a target in the dense dark fog had me quickly regretting my loss of temper.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
“If you had stayed, you would not be hungry.”
Such an open, foolish statement. Perhaps I wouldn’t be hungry because I would be dead. I kept my thoughts to myself and waited.
“So you walked from the Water just for food?”
He sounded very calm, and it worried me.
“Yes,” I said.
“From my estate?”
I nodded, my throat suddenly tight.
“Then I think it fair to ask for something in return.”
I remembered his last price and started to lower the bag of potatoes to the ground. I would not do that again. I wasn’t in a desperate enough situation.
“Wait. Before you give up your prize and have to return home with nothing but dirt-caked nails, listen.”
I paused with the bag almost touching the soil.
“I will generously give you as much food as you can carry in return for an hour of your time.”
Shaking my head, I set the bag down and barely saw the potatoes spill out.
“Stubborn,” he yelled in an almost inarticulate roar. “Why not?”
“I’ve told you once; I’m not a whore.”
He growled long and loud, the sound moving around me as he circled. I wished I could see through the mist.
“Who said anything about whoring?” he said finally. “I need someone to clean the estate.”
I couldn’t hide my surprise.
“Just clean?”
“Yes,” he ground out.
“Then, I can accept,” I said, quickly bending to pick up the potatoes. Before the last one fell into the bag, he bade me to follow.
Only the sound of his footfalls led me because as we walked, the heavy mist seemed to trail us, or at least me. It was disorienting to walk blindly ahead. Well, not blindly, but seeing less than two feet before me was hardly reassuring at the fast pace he assumed. We walked a far distance when, suddenly, the
same door from my prior visit loomed ahead.
I opened the door and went inside. For a moment, I saw little; then light streamed into the room from the high windows. For a moment, I wondered about the mist that had accompanied me then apparently vanished. But, the state of the kitchen distracted me. It was just as I’d left it, the large tub upside down near the cold hearth and the table turned on its end as a privacy screen.
“What would you have me clean?” I asked. Silence answered me.
Shaking my head, I set to work righting as much of the enormous kitchen as I could. I set shelves back onto their mountings, then lined them with the various cooking pots and stirring spoons that littered the floor. I pried apart one of the table halves and set the wood near the hearth for burning. Several chairs, broken beyond repair, joined the growing pile. The remaining chairs, which had a hope of being repaired, I sat near one wall. Nothing but dust and debris carried in by the seasons remained on the floor when I finished.
Though I knew I’d spent longer than the bargained hour cleaning, I went outside in search of grass and twigs to make a rough broom. When I finished, I spent a good while longer sweeping. Satisfied with my work, I swept the last bit outside the door and went to the counter to shoulder my prize, the bag of potatoes.
When I turned back to the open door, I saw the dark mists swirling toward it and knew the beast approached. It snuffed out the sun shining through the windows and cast the room into premature evening gloom. My eyes didn’t adjust quickly enough to see him move into the room, but my ears picked up his feet brushing against the cobbled floor as he strode toward me.
“You’ve met your end of the bargain and more. Will you return tomorrow?”
“I won’t abuse your generosity,” I declined carefully. “I have enough to feed us for a week if we’re careful.”
“A week?” He scoffed. “Come back tomorrow, and I will have sun-ripened tomatoes for you.”
My mouth watered.
“And the price?”
“The same. An hour of cleaning.”
I frowned as I considered the offer. He’d left me alone to clean this time, but would he do so the next time? And why did he suddenly want someone to clean for him? Food and answers were only likely if I returned.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I said.
He grunted and made another slight noise so soft and so brief I couldn’t be sure what is was or what it meant.
He led me to the gate, then disappeared. The walk home wasn’t as terrible as I’d anticipated. I had a rabbit to carry in addition to the potatoes, but it was the promise of tomatoes the next day that lightened my step. Before returning to the house, I traded half the potatoes for coin, hoping I wasn’t making a mistake, and purchased some oats and milk for breakfast. Living in the Water, we hadn’t had room for the goat; and Bryn had sold her to the butcher. I wondered where that coin had gone.
When I walked through the door with potatoes, milk, oats, and rabbit I was surprised that Bryn wasn’t inside. I placed the items in the kitchen storage and went to clean up before anyone returned. Dirt smudged my dress from cleaning, so I changed into my trousers and shirt to take the dress outside and air it, which meant hanging it on the line of rope strung between trees and beating the dirt from it. After I finished, I hauled water from our private well to wash my hands and face.
By the time Bryn returned, I once again wore my dress and was reading a book while sitting comfortably in the stuffed chair before the cold hearth. She asked where I’d obtained the food, and I asked where she’d been. She didn’t answer so neither did I. She lit the stove, and I listened to her start preparations for dinner. I tried not to let my mouth water.
Father said nothing when we sat down to a dinner of rabbit and baked potatoes, though he did glance at me. Just as Blye and now Bryn had their secrets, so did he. None of us knew where he taught; and when asked, he evaded the question.
* * * *
The next morning, after a hearty meal of milk soaked hot oats, I set out for the estate better prepared.
As I had the day before, I set traps at the edge of the mist before turning north toward the gate. The dense fog of the day before didn’t reappear as the gate swung open with a high-pitched screech. Instead of ignoring the invitation to enter and continuing to the dirt patch, I stepped through the gate. I wanted to leave the tomatoes on the vine until the last minute.
Within the beast’s domain, only the barest hint of white mist clung to the air.
Walking north, where I thought the house should be, I gasped when an immense structure came into view. I counted two stories of windows on the wing with the kitchen and four on the main building, which extended far into the surrounding trees. I could easily clean one hour each day for the next year.
Inside, I viewed my work from the day before with satisfaction. On the butcher’s block in the middle of the kitchen a note lay waiting next to a plate with cheese, bread, and a cup of cold spring water.
Eat and rest before you continue your work on the kitchen.
I set my bag beside the plate and drank deeply. Then I looked around the kitchen, wondering what else he would have me clean, until I spotted the four doors in the kitchen which had been locked the day before. All now stood ajar. The first led to a long room lined with three beds. Dust coated everything. The next door led to a hall. Walking the hall, I came to a set of steps set in the left wall. They led down into pitch black, and a cold draft drifted up to swirl around my ankles. I kept walking and found a door to the right that led to a linen closet. Everything in that room looked white and new, except again, for a fine dusting. The door at the end of the hall remained locked though I saw no keyhole.
Turning back, I retraced my steps to the kitchen. There, I took my bag to the servant’s quarters and quickly changed before exploring the other doors off of the kitchen. One long room held a variety of foods, all looking surprisingly fresh. The next led to a small study filled with shelves of books. Curious, I plucked a book from its perch and opened it to find a page detailing how to dress and stuff a quail. Books on how to cook. What a splendid idea. Reluctantly, I replaced the book and returned to the main kitchen.
Though, I’d done a fair job, the hearth still needed attention. Squaring my shoulders, I set to work.
An hour later, I had removed the ash and brushed the stone clean. It hadn’t been as dirty as I’d thought. I set new kindling down, ready to light should anyone have a need, and picked up the final bucket of ash. Outside, as I dumped it a few steps from the door in the overgrown weeds, I noted a swirling mass of dark fog rolling my way.
I hurried back inside and moved to the water I’d pumped after emptying the first bucket of ash. The wind had taken the dark powder and dusted me generously. By letting the water sit for an hour, I could use it without shivering. I quickly washed my hands and face. The door opened when I had a towel pressed to my face for drying.
When I opened my eyes, I could only see faint outlines of the objects in the now familiar kitchen. The shadow of the beast paced on four legs just inside the door. His back easily stood as high as my shoulders. I could make out little else about him. Yet, what little I saw was enough to make my knees weak. I rather liked the mist.
“You made better progress yesterday,” he said with a low rumble.
I frowned at him.
“The work yesterday was easier.” He grunted in response. “I’ll just go pick my tomatoes and be on my way.”
“Will you stay, Benella?” he asked quietly, confusing me.
Hadn’t he just complained about my work? I was reluctant to keep giving him the same answer he’d received so poorly in the past yet had no reason to answer differently.
“I cannot,” I said.
He whirled about and left with a roar. Gradually, sun began to filter back into the room. Near the door lay just enough tomatoes to fill my bag. I rushed to change and used my dirty clothes to cushion between the layers of the soft red orbs.
When I reach
ed the gate, the beast’s mist surrounded me again, forcing me to stop walking.
“Tomorrow, there will be meat if you return. As much as you can carry home in return for an hour of cleaning.”
I knew I would sell the majority of the tomatoes since they didn’t last long. The coin could buy meat, or it could be used to buy more milk and oats. I nodded in agreement, and the mists lifted enough that I set off for home.
As I had the day before, I arrived before anyone else. When Bryn returned she exclaimed over the tomatoes but didn’t question how I’d obtained them; and I, in return, didn’t ask her where she’d been.
* * * *
Since moving, I slept in Father’s bed and he in his chair, as there was no room for me in with my sisters. He made very little noise when he rose and hadn’t yet woken me. However, exhausted from my day’s work, I’d fallen asleep early. Even the slightest noise would have woken me the following morning.
Laying in the dark, I listened to him dress then walk out the back door. When I heard the scrape of the bucket as he lowered it for water, I quickly rose from bed, dressed, then once again crawled under the covers. I wanted to respect Father’s unspoken wish to keep where he taught private, yet his secrecy worried me. Bryn and Blye’s secrecy I could accept. It was part of who they were. But, Father had never kept secrets before.
He quietly reentered the cottage but didn’t eat. He only washed and grabbed his materials for the day before leaving via the front door.
Flipping back the covers, I quickly eased the front door open and set to following him.
He headed toward the center of town, passed the Head’s house, then slowed before the house of the Whispering Sisters. There, he went to the back door and nodded to the guard standing there. The guard started to nod in return, but then caught sight of me. Father turned and saw me standing half hidden behind a tree.
Even from this great distance, I saw his shoulders slump. I stepped out from my hiding place but remained near the tree as he turned to walk toward me. My heart went out to him. He was a moral man and didn’t understand how a woman could go into such a trade. We’d talked about it at length on several occasions during a family dinner. I knew the lectures were to help us, his daughters, stay innocent for our future husbands.